


Words not Spoken

by Orlha



Series: Lightning on the Wind's blade [2]
Category: Naruto
Genre: AU, Angst, Kakashi's sister - Freeform, Outtakes, Reincarnation, Self-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2018-02-07
Packaged: 2018-09-16 20:52:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 12,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9289169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orlha/pseuds/Orlha
Summary: Outtakes and Alternates from the story "Bones Beneath her feet"





	1. Kannabi Bridge AU: Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I've trashed and drafted so many copies and sections from this series, that the drafts word count have recently hit 16k. Some are from a timeline I completely trashed and will never be 'canon' to BBHF.

**Kannabi Bridge AU: In which Fuuko 'awakens' as a child and stops Obito from being crushed by the rocks.**

* * *

 

Kakashi froze at their words. It couldn’t be. Fuuko had died during the mission of Kannabi bridge. She had been crushed by the rocks.

“Are you sure?” he heard Tenzo ask Obito.

He wouldn’t, _couldn’t_ doubt Obito’s words. If there was anyone else apart from him who knew the Hatake kenjutsu, it would be Obito. His sister was alive.

_His sister was alive._

He clenched his jaw under the weight of pouring guilt. He felt his sister there under the rocks and she had lived. She could can recuperated had he brought her back, had he brought sensei to the rocks, had he…

Kakashi scrubbed his face angrily. He failed her once, he wasn’t going to fail her another time. He spun around, vaulting across the railings and leapt across the roofs.

“Sempai!” “Kakashi!”

Orders could screw themselves. He wasn’t going to sit around and wait for the Hokage to assign him a mission to find his sister. There were no delusions about it, he was too close to her to think clearly and the Hokage would never send him out. Not to mention his sister was in a master criminal organisation. He let out a mirthless laugh, the Hokage might not even want to bring her back. Dashing through the village gates, he ignored the ANBU that took off after him or the jounins. Short of Shisui and Gai, there was no one else faster than in brute speed alone.

The ANBU squad and the team of jounins eventually dropped back after several kilometres from the gates. There was no reason to pursue him. He hadn’t committed a crime yet and Kakashi was a known loyal shinobi. There was no reason to doubt him.

\----

The figure tilted her head at him, oddly reminiscent of how Fuuko used to do when she was a baby.

“Fuuko!” He called out again. She stood on the edge of the rooftop, like a startled bird, ready to flee. “Imouto-” Kakashi said, his voice ragged with emotion.

She lifted her head onto the mask, the orange curls paring away to reveal not the dark grey eyes he remembered by the red, shining sharingan. His sister couldn’t have had the sharingan, it was impossible! His mind screamed at him, but even under the heavy disfigurement of her right side, Kakashi could recognise the face that she could have been. The jaw, the nose and even the left eye was all father’s.

She _was_ his sister.

“Hatake Kakashi.” She jumped off the roof and landed several meters from him, not even the slightest displacement of dust to indicate her landing.

“I didn’t know you- survived.” Words that he had rehearsed in his brain repeatedly throughout the run failed him now. She blinked owlishly at him. “Please. Come back with me. To Konoha.” He would not even dream of calling Konoha home for her. Ten years had come and gone. Kakashi struggled to find the sister he remembered in her and found almost none.

“Sempai!” Itachi called out from behind. He turned to see Itachi and Obito joining them.

“What are you doing here?”

“We couldn’t let you face her alone.” _An S-class criminal._ The unstated insinuation did not pass him by. Kakashi wanted to bare his teeth and declare she would not harm him, however that would only be lying to himself. The woman that stood before him was a ghost of his younger sister.

“I will not go to Konoha.” Her face still blank like a noh mask.

“Then take me with you!”

“Kakashi!” Obito grabbed him and Kakashi wrenched his arm from his grip. “What do you think you’re doing? Are you so sure that she’s your sister that you’ll become a missing-nin for her?”

“I’m her nii-san! I should have protected her. I should have been by her bedside when she was recovering. I don’t _care_ about being a shinobi if it means being without her.”

_She’s the only family I have left._

“Yet you left me there, bleeding on the rocks.” Her stock still posture, slouched forward in an arrogant manner that could have scraped the sky.  “You left me there to die when I protected you two.” She sneered at them. Her face, no longer the noh mask, was a mask of fury.

“I’m sorry. I was wrong. Please let me have the chance to make up for it.”

“I have no use for another Hatake. Maybe an Uchiha.” She appeared beside Obito, sliding her finger down his jaw before he could even react. “Tell me Obito- _kun_ , did you mourn for me? Did you cry for me? You did, didn’t you? You were always such a big cry baby after all, ”she whispered into his ear.

In a movement too fast, she leapt forward to Kakashi, her kunai on the vein of his neck. “A Hatake for an Uchiha?” Fuuko smiled at him. How could she have turned into this? He had abandoned her, he was lower than trash.

“Imouto…”

Her face spasmed, fingers releasing the kunai. Fuuko backpedaled, staring disgustedly at her hands. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she fell to her knees, clutching her face.

“Imouto…?”

“I can’t stop it for long,” she told him.

“It?”

“I was a bad girl. I wouldn’t help him,” she replied hoarsely. Kakashi reached for her hand, peeling it from her face. Where the rocks had landed was a web of white skin, her hands were equally discoloured.

“Who’s him?”

“ _Him._ ” She tightened her fingers around his. “ _Bravery is not the absence of fear_ -”

“- _but rather the judgement that something is more important than fear_ ,” he continued. It was her, there was no one else who could have known it in that strange language she taught him. “Let me come with you.”

“No. I can’t protect you if you do.”

“I’m your nii-san, I’m supposed to protect you.”

“You don’t know him.” She pressed her head against his collarbone. “Besides, I need you to protect someone else more important in Konoha.”

“No one is more important than you.”

She looked at him and smiled ruefully. “There is someone always more important than a me and that is the fate of the world. You must protect-”

Her face drew blank again and she pushed him back, the kunai back at his throat. “So which Uchiha will it be?”

Itachi stepped forward. “Let him go. I’ll come with you.”

“Itachi-kun! No. What about the clan?”

“You’ll protect it as I’ll protect her.” He crossed over to her side and inclined his head to Kakashi. A promise that would not need any words.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not going to lie... Villain!Fuuko was fun to write.


	2. Reincarnation AU: Part 1

**Reincarnation AU: In which Fuuko wasn't an SI-OC but an OC that was doomed to be reborn over and over again.**

* * *

 

Perhaps of one of the things that had rose from the ages of the Third Shinobi War, it was the largely infamous (or famous, depending on the storyteller) Four Guardians Anbu squad that knew no defeat. Suzaku whose fire was blacker than the night and was inextinguishable, Genbu whose shadows lurked beneath the flames of Suzaka and ripped throats out of their enemies, Byakko whose killing intent could bring death to the weak and had claws that tore through the battlefields, but Seiryuu was one that was always spoken in hushed whispers. Seiryuu, that barely reached the chest of a man’s height, could devastate the fields with a mere hand movement.

The Four Guardians squad had been an indomitable presence in the war. No one, not even the Konoha ninjas, knew of their names, let alone faces. It was an easy guess for spies to speculate the clans of the first two. History had reported on the Uchiha clans conjuring inextinguishable fire to their enemies during the clan wars, and it had been a common fact that Naras controlled the shadows.

Clan names meant very little and a lot in the intelligence world. It was not Suzaku, who was supposedly an Uchiha and was therefore assumed to be a genjutsu specialist, but Byakko that was famous for genjutsu. It was not Genbu, who was supposedly a Nara and therefore famous for their battle instinct, but Seiryuu that commanded the Divine Anbu movements.

-/-/-/-/-

He leapt out of the way, surging the shadows with his chakra. Behind him, Suzaka was flashing quick hand seals for a Katon. It was a very stupid move to ambush a Nara in the night, especially so for ambushing the Four Guardians squad. Shikaku couldn’t blame them though, A for effort. Most ninjas were weaker in the dark except Nara whose shadows lay in every way.

“Four Guardians! Ret-” was all the Iwa ninja managed to get out before he lit up in a blaze from Suzaku’s Phoenix sage fire. No need to pointlessly waste his Amaterasu in a night ambush since they wouldn’t see it and the intimidation factor would have been lost. What surprised Shikaku was that they didn’t know it was _them?_ Someone clearly brought them bad information, too bad for them but there was a leak somewhere. This mission was supposed to be a stealth, only the Hokage and his advisors knew of it.

The Iwa ninja’s screaming went silent as Shikaku threw a kunai to his throat. Damnit, Akito and his need to scare their opponents all the time. He was certain that the screaming of the ninja burning to death was going to haunt his dreams for a while.

Byakko sunshined to his side, hands flashing in signal. _Sixteen hostiles, seven more coming from left._

Shikaku was already surging to the left, his shadows leaping at his command to twist the neck of the ninja on his left, spearing the one that tried to sneak up from behind.

Where was his baby student?

A ninja, further to his right, collapsed to the ground with senbons sticking from his neck. Well Byakko’s there… Suzaku’s was fighting another three behind him.

This was the reason why he hadn’t wanted a student. Bringing her to the warzone, wearing not just the Konoha leaf insignia but the Seiryuu’s mask. Shikaku snapped another shinobi’s neck, kicking the feet out of the other and slammed his kunai into his throat.

Fuuko hadn’t even had her first kill yet.

He tried to quell the rising panic in his chest.

Come on, Fuuko, where are you?

He surged through the trees, casting his chakra out. Fuuko was just by the stream.

Shikaku halted on the branch. Despite the obvious disadvantage in height and experience, his student was handling it well. Bouncing off the tree, she dodged the ninja’s foot, throwing shurikens into his eye. He fell with a scream. She spun away, dropping into a roll to dodge the next ninja. She flipped over him, hands twisting his neck with an audible crack.

Shikaku paused in amazement. That couldn’t have been her first kill. She hadn’t even blinked or hesitated.

Fuuko sidestepped a thrust, hand slapping away as she surged forward, kunai in hand, slashing across the man’s throat. Blood spurted across her mask then the three remaining ninjas stopped breathing hard.

“So they replaced the dead Seiryuu with a baby ninja,” the one with the bandana sneered. Wasn’t it a bit late to use intimidation tactics, Shikaku wondered.

The small child, dressed in the deadliest anbu squad ever known outfit, did not even react to his words. Bantering should not have been beaten out of her yet. Shikaku swallowed hard. Had he not known for certainty that she was only ten, he would have questioned if she was a diminutive shinobi. Her skills were surpassed those of her age, not just in the knowledge of the skill but the execution. He wasn’t watching a child fight, he was watching a battle-hardened shinobi and it was eerie.

“They must be really out of quality ninjas,” the other sneered.

Suddenly one of them leapt forward and before Shikaku could even raise his hands to call his shadows, Fuuko pulled her hands across her face, tightening the chakra threads that he had not notice her weaving around them. They fell to the ground dead.

His ten year old student stood there, still as a statue for a moment then pried her mask off and washing it in the now blood-dyed stream with steady hands.

There were more than one reasons why she hadn’t reacted the way a normal genin would have. If Hatake was any standard to go by, this younger Hatake might have been equally if not more socially stunted. He might be wrong to use normal genins as a yardstick for any of the Hatakes.

She turned her head in his direction, as though sensing him. Her eyes were blank just like the day he got her as a student, just like the day she graduated from the academy. Had they been blank before her father’s suicide? Shikaku remembered Kakashi before the whole convoluted mess started, it had been her that had found her father’s body, wasn’t it? He hadn’t been close to Sakumo at all. Maybe she was just bottling it up. It would be a natural reaction - an unhealthy one but needless to say, natural.

Yes, that’s probably it, Shikaku reassured himself. “Fuuko?” Shikaku approached her slowly, trying not to startle her.  “Are you okay?” he knelt beside her.

“Yes.” She wiped a wet hand down her face and clipped her freshly washed mask back on. Without another word, she turned around, heading back to the rest of the squad.

“Fuuko-” his words stopped her trek. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

She only nodded. Damnit, why did he agree to take her on. Shikaku looked skyward before muttering an almost inaudible troublesome.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This draft was titled 生老病死 as the working title. Which also translates to 'Cycle of death'


	3. Outtake 1: The wrong crush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kakashi's shenanigans

**Outtake 1: In which Kakashi mistakes Fuuko having a crush**

Fuuko looks up and tries to wave him away half-heartedly when he props his chin on her head. "You're making me shorter, nii-san."

"Ah.. I thought I had an imouto somewhere." He winces as she digs her foot into his foot. "Ah I see her now." He hoists her over his shoulder and jumps over Mr Ukki, landing right beside the opposite building's window in one deft leap.

"EEE! Nii-san! Put me down right now!"

"Nuh-ah."

She presses her skirt down to prevent it from showing her undies as he soared across Konoha to stop beside a narrow window sill. Kakashi taps the window and an exasperated Tenzo swings it open.

"Taichou, I hope you realise it's 10 at night."

"I had a craving for yakiniku. Let's go right now," Kakashi eye crinkles at him and snatches Tenzo from the bed he was lying on.

"Taichou… Bear lives right across your window, why didn't you just take Bear instead?" Tenzo asks, resigning to himself being manhandled by Konoha's number 1 Anbu Captain.

"Well. Bear wouldn't treat me."

"I'm not treating you," Tenzo tells him sullenly.

"That's what you always say."

Tenzo sighs and half-heartedly waving at Fuuko. "Hello Fuuko-san."

She blushes and waves back. "Hello Tenzo-san. I apologise for this person I call nii-san. He is _most embarrassing._ "

Kakashi stops and drops them both to the ground, his single dark grey eye sliding back and forth between the both of them. "Tenzo. You are forbidden on having a crush on my imouto. Imouto I forbid you on having a crush on Tenzo."

Fuuko sniffs. Folding her arms she looks away, "you can't stop me from liking anyone. Besides it's-"

"I changed my mind," Kakashi declares. He slings Tenzo onto his shoulder, not even bothering to wait for Fuuko to finish her sentence. "Tenzo. We're going to have an emergency training right now."


	4. Outtake 2: The wrong record

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the original portion for the Fuuko and her brother and she being naked.

**Outtake 2: The wrong record**

* * *

 

The apartment is dark by the time Fuuko gets back from the Anbu Headquarters. The floor creaks under her sandaled feet and she catches the flying kunais before it impales her. She curses, slotting them back into the trap and resetting it. Even in her exhausted state she shouldn’t have tripped the trap. Shouldn’t, what a re-occurring word.

The Anbu commander shouldn’t be Root, her Anbu captain should be Root, the sushi seller three stalls down shouldn’t be Root, yet they are. Fuuko collapses onto her bed, flopping an arm over her eyes, wishing the growing headache to disappear. Pushing herself off the bed, she eats, showers and then stops in front of her closet, a realisation halting her actions.

The entire debriefing had been an interrogation in disguise. Badger is Root and so is Horse. That means Danzo has all the mission details provided by her other two teammates yet, Badger had pressed for her for details. Why?

Sinking onto her bed, she steeples her fingers. Fuuko turns it over in her mind again and again, unable to come to a suitable conclusion; a conclusions that fitted all the pieces. Is she missing a piece?

“I’m baccck,” Kakashi’s voice echoes from the doorway. “Imouto?” He pads down the hallway, swings her door open and immediately slams the door shut in front of him.

“Imouto…” he chokes. “W-why are you sitting naked on your bed?” his voice reverberates in the hallway.

Fuuko pauses in that line of thoughts and tilts her head to the door where her nii-san is standing behind. If the Anbu commander and her own captain are Root, then is Kakashi one too? ( _Trust, trust, trust_ ) She swallows shallowly. “Ne, nii-san, do you trust your team?”

“Of course,” he says it without hesitation the way Fuuko already knows he would. “Is this about your new captain?”

Fuuko shoots up. “That’s right! Personnel reports! I should have thought about that.” She throws on her jounin gear again, twisting her silver hair into a mockery of a ponytail and shunshins out of the window.

“Imouto?” Kakashi calls out, but she’s too far away to reply by then. He’ll just have to wait until she gets home.

The personnel records room is laughably easy to infiltrate and in there Kusari Akito has three sheets of paper: a birth certificate, an academy graduation certificate and a the latest health sheet. How obviously suspicious. She can’t check Horse because even though she know he’s Root, she still doesn’t know who he actually is off-duty, if he’s ever off-duty.  

If she can’t go to Horse, then she should go to nii-san. “Yes,” she breathes. Kakashi is the best asset that she has on hand now. Genma is a good idea too. She hums and as she replaces Badger’s file, Fuuko finds hers below Badger’s folder. It is thick and weighty in her hands.

 **Family Name: Hatake**  
**Given Name: Fuuko**  
**Ninja Registration: 0009231**  
**Gender: Female**  
**Blood type: A+**

She thumbs through them without much thought. Her medical records are thoroughly and unsurprisingly plentiful. She’s Anbu after all, and like most Anbu, the missions they go on are usually A rank and above.

**Medical Record Identification Number: 236 9201-A--AM-855**

**Reference: Mission 238291-B-92**

**Injury Record:**

 

**Psych Eval: Patient is noted to claim to not feel belonged and exhibits signs of paranoia, delusions, mania, mood swings, insomnia and depression. Patient has drastic changes to behavior. Mandatory loyalty test is required upon completion of observation.**

**Patient is currently under observation by Hatake Kakashi, Uchiha Shisui, Uchiha Itachi.**

Fuuko stares at the record, a hysterical laughter bubbling up her throat. Paranoia, delusions, mania, mood swings! She knew she was observed. By strangers, she thought, by the Anbu, by the Military Police.

Her shoulders shake, feeling the words rattle her to her very bones. Not her nii-san ( _that man_ ) or Shisui ( _dead in the water_ ). Can’t trust them ( _traitors_ ). Fuuko closes the files, drops them back into the box and then slips away.

 


	5. Kannabi Bridge AU: Part 2

**Kannabi Bridge AU: In which Fuuko tries to help Itachi escape and Itachi insists on staying  
**

* * *

 

Itachi wrote as frequently as he could to Kakashi, and though Kisame was official his partner in Akatsuki, more often than not he found himself tagging along Fuuko’s self-imposed missions. She was half crazy most of the time and the remainder of the time, outright batshit insane. She swung from gleefully murderous to childishly innocent. It had taken Itachi another three months to determine the times when she was actually Hatake Fuuko, the times when she was Uchiha Hichika and the times when she was pretending to be Uchiha Hichika.

“Why don’t you leave?” she asked one night when the base was empty. Her eyes were not dilated and her movements were calm and steady.

“Fuuko-san,” Itachi inclined his head to her. He stilled his hands, setting the whetstone and kunai on the table.

She chuckled and sat down on the couch beside him. “You can tell that now too. I’m not surprised. You were always far sharper than you let on.”

After meeting her as Hichika several times, Hatake Fuuko wasn’t anything he expected her to be. “I made a promise to sempai,” he replied.

“To protect me?” She laughed. It was a pleasant sound unlike Hichika’s cruel laugh. “I don’t really need protecting.”

Her red sharingan eyes seemed to gleam with a strange light. Latching her hand around his arm in a movement too quick, the room darkened into a momentary void before reappearing on the top of a cliff to a view he had not seen for months. The tall buildings sprawling out in the distance, the bustling people as they moved about on their errands, the dark forms leaping from rooftop to rooftop.

“Why Konoha?”

She pushed him towards the view. “Go home Itachi-kun. We don’t need you. I don’t need you.”

Itachi sunshined towards her, grabbing her before she could kamui away. “Don’t mistake my actions for glorified honourable actions. I am willingly staying to keep an eye on Akatsuki.”

“Don’t. Akatsuki isn’t an easy place to stay. I can’t stop _him_ sometimes. He’s waiting, watching-” Fuuko turned her face upward and laid a hand on her breast. “He’s everywhere. And I can’t stop it.”

Itachi held on her wrist tightly. “I’ll help you if you let me.”

“You can’t stop Madara. No one can.”


	6. Outtake 3: Extended (Missing) scene of chp 1

**Outtakes 3: Extended (Missing) scene of chp 1**

* * *

 

She takes gulps of the warm night air, finally stopping at the edge of a forest, on the docks. “I am Fuuko. Hatake Fuuko,” she tests the words on her tongue. The strange blend of familiarity and callowness whelms up in her throat. The longer she explores it, the stranger it feels, like she didn’t belong. She really _didn’t_ belong after all. Dying in the bathtub had been her last _then_ memory, being so sick that she rolled around in a wheelchair had been also part of her _then_ memories. Was she a body snatcher? Had she stolen someone’s body? She raised her hand against the slowly rising moon, eyes tracing out the multiple scars and callouses across her hand ( _a shinobi’s hand_ ), her mind offered again, knowledge that she didn’t know how or where she got them from. The pool of memories that seemed to assure that it was hers ( _or was it the body’s memories?_ ), didn’t feel like hers. How had she gotten here? If she had died and was reborn again, then why had she remembered now?

She runs a frustrated hand through her hair and sinks to the ground, her body instinctively crossing her legs into a sitting lotus style.  

“I am Hatake Fuuko,” she says slowly into the silence. Not even the sound of the leaves rustling could be heard. No, she’s not. She’s an imposter in the body of Hatake Fuuko, in a body that she’s always dreamed to have. “I…” she trails off, trying to fit her mind around being in a body that isn’t hers, “don’t belong here.” She closes her eyes, trying to calm her whirling thoughts. The memories ( _of the body_ ) instruct her to reach deep inside her, past her frantic beating heart and deep inside _her._ A warm reassuring fluttering in her mental hands like sunlight on a cold summer’s day.

( _Chakra_ )

What is Chakra, she asks. Her body feeds her memories of chakra control exercises with nii-san and an older woman with the same spiky silver hair, playing tag across the walls and ceiling with nii-san and tou-san.

Quiet serenity fills her as she processes the memories. Hatake Fuuko was loved unlike the her before then, loved and cherished despite the choice of her profession. She opens her eyes, leaning over the water’s edge, taking the first clear look of herself.

Spiky silver hair that look untamed though she knew was due to her lightning affinity, dark grey eyes, sharp cheekbones. Not traditionally pretty in the civilian way, she is pretty in her own striking way. Something nudged at her memories. As she tried to pull the memory out, she senses the presence of a person to her left, a steady, calm presence like a full moon on a winter’s night very unlike the man in the apartment she ran from. Perhaps that person has been there for a while. Probably following her since she left the place, he always have been good at hiding his presence.

“Fuuko-san,” he calls out. She stands, dark hair tied at the base of his skull. Red eyes almost luminous in the dark.

“Itachi-kun,” her mouth replies automatically.

He sits down beside her, a knee pressed against his chest, the other stretched out in front of him. Silently, they watched the moon rise and hang heavily in the dark sky. Still far too warm for a September night ( _Konoha always had warm seasons_ ), she remembers the cold autumn of her _then_ life, pottering about with her wheelchair. She lays a hand on her thigh. The unbidden knowledge of the wakizashi katas, the memories of her swinging the sword, the smell cut grass and ozone when she lay beside her nii-san ( _that man_ ) floats to the surface. Even being the dominant personality ( _could she even call it personality when it insisted it is her?_ ), the cluster of information that floats up every time she thinks of something is suffocating, cementing the fact that she _isn’t_ supposed to be here. Her body feels ill-fitting, like a dress that’s too tight. She can’t even recall her _then_ name. Was it an R? It felt like an R.

She flops to the ground, pressing her forearm against her eyes with a sigh. The whole idea is screwed up to begin with. She hadn’t wanted to live. It wasn’t like she had struggled to survive in the final moments of her _then_ life. ( _Bodysnatcher_ )

“I think Kakashi-taicho would disagree,” Itachi tells her, startling her out of her thoughts. She peers at him from under her arm, puzzled at his words. “Without you, Kakashi-taicho would be lost. Without you, Shisui would have died in the mission.”

He pauses in his words, even in the dimly lit crescent moon, she can see the growing red on the back of his neck as he continues haltingly, “you belong but with us.”

Why is he saying… oh. _Ooh._

“Itachi-kun…”

He stands and motions to her. “Come on, I’ll walk you home,” he says, ducking his red face in his high collared shirt.

She could feel the gravel beneath their feet crunch despite the lack of noise. They walk like cats, she thought. Noiselessly across the grainy terrain, even the leaves rustling in the breeze was louder than their footsteps.

Home, where was home? Her mind showed her pictures of her making dinner with nii-san, roughhousing with Shisui, forcing Naruto to eat his veggies, her heart thought of the dark apartment back in Brooklyn, her heated floors, her bed, her pillows, Meow meow the cat.

“I want a cat…” She caught sight of the moon reflecting in the lake. A surge of nostalgia shot through her. “Remember the time I pushed you into the lake? Must have been our… what, second time meeting each other?”

Itachi’s lips twitched upwards, a low chuckle warming her insides. “I didn’t think you’d remember.”

_I didn’t think I’d too._

“The medic said that there might be holes in your memories from where the genjutsu had been forcibly removed.”

“Genjutsu?”

He averts his eyes, staring studiously at the path. “It was a bad mission,” is all he says.

_The searing heat was grinding her organs to death. Fuuko tried to breathe. Her mouth opening and closing in an imitation of a goldfish. Her lungs burnt, her throat burnt. She was dying._

_Save me._

_Someone save me._

_Panic clawed up her throat as she felt herself fade into nothingness._

_So this is how it ends. The mighty Lightning of Konoha, in the lab of a missing-nin._

_She felt something unravel inside her, bursting and enveloping her. She welcomed it, cradled it and then all thoughts disappeared._

“I died.”

“But you’re still here.”

“In the labs, I died. I prayed for someone to save me and it answered then I died.” Somehow it had all begun to make sense in her head. Whatever that had happened in the labs had unlocked her.

“Fuuko-san.” Itachi cups her cheek with his hand. “You’re alive now and that’s all it matters.”

 


	7. Reincarnation AU: Part 2

**Reincarnation AU: In which Fuuko wasn't an SI-OC but an OC that was doomed to be reborn over and over again.**

Part 1 is [chapter 2](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9289169/chapters/21209987)

* * *

 

“Masks off,” Shitsuroi commanded as they jumped into the office through the windows. 

Shikaku pulled his mask off with a long suffering sigh followed by Akito who shook his dark hair off, tucking his Suzaku mask into one of his numerous pockets. “I thought the whole idea of of masks was to protect the identity of the shinobi,” he whined and nudged Byakko who only inserted his senbon between his teeth and grinned.

“Akito- _ senpai _ , I’m fairly certain that this procedure is the norm for our Anbu commander due to the security lapses that has occurred recently,” Byakko deadpanned. “The faster we’re done with this, the sooner we can go home.

Seiryuu, the youngest pulled the brown wig off, letting her silver hair sprawl down her back. Genma noogied her and she only looked at him blandly. “Fuuko- _ nyan _ is  _ so _ not cute,” he sulked. She jabbed fast fingers into his ribs and Genma released her with a yelp.

Shitsuroi gave them a pinched look before turning to Shikaku. “Report.”

“Hostile forces at Kannabi bridge was destroyed. Seiryuu and I have determined that Iwa must be receiving supplies through that bridge.”

“Casualties?”

“Two Konoha ninjas injured and thirty-two dead Iwa ninjas.”

Shitsuroi dismissed the other three, motioning to Shikaku to stay. Fuuko eyed the two, her dark grey eyes lingering on the taller Nara. Her face was blank like her Anbu mask. It was almost similar to her older Hatake sibling, but where Shikaku could reliably read the other Hatake, Fuuko’s was bare; something that Shikaku felt uneasy to see on a ten year old child. Children of her age should still be in the academy regardless of their skills and outward maturity not on the battlefields, let alone this squad. 

“How are the two new members?” Shitsuroi asked after he activated the privacy seal again. 

Shikaku sighed. Sakumo must be turning in his grave to know that his two children were already on the battlefields, with his youngest one an Anbu squad. “I still do not think Hatake Fuuko should be on the squad.”

“Is that the Anbu Captain speaking or the Father speaking?” Shitsuroi raised an eyebrow, steepling his hands as he stared into Shikaku’s eyes. “Seiryuu’s death was very unfortunate but his reputation is taller than the Hokage Mountain. As the once in a generation prodigy Nara, I’m sure you understand that there is no other shinobi capable of taking over Seiryuu’s legend.”

Shikaku could see the weariness in his cousin’s face.  He was right, regardless of Shikaku’s very parental feelings. Hatake Fuuko, in spite of her youth, was the only fit for Seiryuu’s mask. The abolishment of the Divine Anbu team would be too great a blow in wartime. Her brother had been barely passed over due to Minato’s insistence on staying as his Jounin, along with his primarily kenjutsu skills. Seiryuu was a long-range user, something Kakashi was not. 

He pitied the girl for having him as her Jounin sensei. “Hatake-san is doing well as Seiryuu. As for Shiranui-san,” If he couldn’t spare Fuuko, then perhaps at least Genma. He had seen the way the battlefields wore Genma down and unlike Fuuko’s resilience, Shikaku couldn’t count of Genma not snapping. “Senju Shigeru might be a better fit. Shiranui-san’s taijutsu is wanting whereas Senju-san is nicknamed the Lion for a reason.”

Shitsuroi’s lips twitched in response though he said nothing, only stamping the scroll and throwing it to him. Shikaku sank into a tired slouch. It would have been better if it was Fuuko. The sight of the ten year old child weaving her chakra strings around the enemies while Akito and Genma distracted them was a sight that Shikaku would have preferred never to see again. To carry on the Seiryuu name, at what cost? Her words so practiced that he could not help but think of the mask she hid. At the cost of those dead eyes on a ten year old? 

Shikaku waved his thanks and jumped out of the window, letting the troubles of his little chuunin fade with the rhythmic thud across the rooftops.


	8. Outtake 4: Missing scene of chp 3

**Outtake 4: Missing scene of chp 3**

* * *

 

Training with Shisui is a lot harder that Fuuko imagines. Each punch and kick comes with an assault of alternatives, each casual thought is disconcerting fountain of information and knowledge. She wonders if she'll ever become Hatake Fuuko. Her body works fine on autopilot, smoothly dodging and flickering, countering his attacks, but she doesn't feel like she actually belongs when she struggles to assimilate her thoughts into the body's movements. It's suffocating trying to _belong._ Her body feels ill-fitting, like a dress that’s too tight. Each spew of memories is smothering, burying her ( _she isn’t supposed to exist_ ).

“You’re leaving your right side open,” Shisui tells her, stopping in front of her. His tanto is held out on his side and he frowns at her.

( _She never leaves her right side open, left but never the right_ )

“Maybe I’ll just run through my katas,” she says, flicking her kodachi in a practiced move as though there is blood on it ( _there always is blood on her kodachi_ ). She thinks running katas to bridge the fissure between her memories would help, except the look on Shisui’s face is strange. Like she’s said something wrong. He doesn’t stop her, regardless, when she moves to the side to run through her katas.

Her kodachi feels familiar and unfamiliar in her hand. Her body moves effortlessly through the motions ( _actions that would have caused her agony in her then life_ ), even with the thrusting and lunging, her heart barely increases, her breath is even like she’s just walking.

( _This is the body of a shinobi. Enduring like the sky itself endures._ )

Her sword swings noiselessly, she flips in midair, letting the act of fighting ( _dancing_ ) wash over her, her movements speeding up with the completion of each set of katas. By the time she’s done enough to please her, her muscles are quivering and the early morning sun has turned into a noon sun. She pauses at the sight of her legs. Dark blue baggy pants, instead of her pants taped like that man, she had tall black boots that hugged her calves. ( _What is it with exposing the toes?_ ) She stares at her toes, baffled as to why the shinobi would voluntarily expose the toes. ( _Aren’t they at risk of injury?_ )

“Imouto?” She looks up and sees Kakashi lying on the grass. He motions to a brown wicker basket beside him. “Itachi-kun brought lunch.”

Somehow in her daze, she had missed Kakashi’s and Itachi’s arrival. It happens time to time, but the reincarnated woman wonders how many times is she going to trip up before they become suspicious of her. She’s not going to fool herself. The snatches of conversations and hints of her last mission implied Orochimaru. Anything Orochimaru was bad news in the manga, that would probably hold true in this world.

She sits beside her brother’s supine form, opening the boxed bento. Rolled rice, fried sausages, and karaage with a side of salad. Nothing fancy but clearly homemade, was it Mikoto’s cooking? Somehow, Fuuko couldn’t imagine Itachi wearing an apron and cooking.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Kakashi asks casually as she crams a fried sausage in her mouth.

She takes her sweet time to chew, mulling over his words. She couldn’t talk about something that she doesn’t even remember. The memories she had analyzed hadn’t yielded anything regarding her last mission. Not yet, she hopes. Fuuko’s not quite sure how to deal with missing ( _ body _ ) memories on top of two different sets of memories.

Have a panic attack, she supposes.

“I… don’t really remember anything,” she tells him truthfully. Her first memories of this world are of her cooking eggplant, with the dog ( _ Bisuke _ ) lying by her feet and those were less than a day’s old. She pokes the tomato forlornly. “It’s bad that I don’t remember, isn’t it?”

“Maa… Horse said that it was a possibility...”

“That I don’t remember anything?” Fuuko doubts that Horse considered the spectrum of amnesia she’s looking at. She looks down at her hand. The callouses on her hand, the easy movement of her limbs. She takes a deep breath, feeling her lungs expand and contract, the painless breathing that she never had in her previous life. 

“I won’t lie to you. I know you don’t like it.” Kakashi says, puts the book down and rolls on his side to look at her. “Horse said even with Shisui removing the genjutsu. The aftereffects coupled with the experimentation that he did on you would be grave. Horse… she doubted if you’d ever recover enough to return to service.”

Fuuko spears a karaage, mulling over his words. Kakashi’s sister, quite possibly died in there, and she… she took over the body. It is the only logical explanation for that. If the original Fuuko is somewhere in here with her, would she give it up? She places a hand on chest, remembering the joy of running and moving without pain, the joy of tumbling and jumping, the joy of simply being alive. 

Could she bear to give it all up if she found the original Fuuko?

No. To go back to the dark apartment, to feel the aches in her body, to feel her body give out on her from each day. How could anyone bear to make that choice?

“Yet I am here,” she says it more to herself than to Kakashi. “I am here.” And  _ she _ is not. 


	9. Outtake: Discarded scene of chp 11 - the Coup

**Outtake: Discarded scene of chp 11**

* * *

 

The hall is packed. There are more Uchihas in the temple hall than Fuuko has ever seen together in one place. She’s not wrong. There hadn’t been a clan meeting of this size since the second generation of Uchihas in Konoha, Mikoto murmurs her.

There are Uchihas crouching on the walls because of the lack of space, some sitting on the beams, watching as the rise and fall for voices increasing with palpable anger in the air.

“...treating us like dogs. Like we’re subpar to them.”

“The Naras are fine, they have been treating us well.”

With feet on the wall, Mikoto and her make their way to the front where Fugaku is sitting surrounded by four older Uchihas. It takes a while for the Uchihas to notice them. They weren’t attempting stealth but the debate on tactics: fire versus shurikenjutsu and sharingan, politics versus outright council, petition versus revolt is compelling. It takes one, then two and a whole wave of the dark haired Uchihas to notice her, their red eyes and spinning tomoe, analyzing her.

Mikoto drops onto the stage beside Fugaku, who nods to them.

“Yesterday, Uchiha Shisui was attacked. I’m sure you all have heard about it by now. There are rumors, plenty of misinformation, but I’m here to address it. The organization who attacked Shisui-kun is a group of rogue shinobis.”

Genma hadn’t seen Danzo in the sea of Root anbus, Fuuko realizes. And she hadn’t been awake long enough to give a full report.

“Not only was he attacked in _our_ training grounds, his right eye was gouged out.” There are gasps and she sweeps her eyes across the hall. “It is not the first eye stolen. Not the second either.” She motions to Fuuko and Fuuko drops down beside her, ostensibly glad that she had put her mask on before leaving the house. “Wolf here fought the rogue shinobis off until Shiranui Genma was able to retreat with Shisui-kun. They don’t have _an_ eye or _two_ eyes. They have an _armful_ of eyes. And now… they have Uchiha Sasuke.”

The hall roars in outrage at her words; rising to their feet, sharingans spinning furiously, demanding for repercussions to this rogue group. Some are checking their weapon pouches, tightening their bandages for battle.

She hasn’t changed history at all, she’s watching it unfold, Fuuko thinks. Her stomach churns at her thoughts. The revolt will happen because Sasuke was taken, the revolt will happen because she failed to stop Shisui’s eye from being stolen. If she had spoken up, told someone, it might have changed things.

“Until now, we have hoped that Konoha would back us on this. Until now, we have hoped that taking a step back would let _them_ see the truth of us. But we won’t take this lying down. It’s obvious that we aren’t going to be backed by them, so we’re going to find my son and every _damn_ eye they have.” Mikoto continues as the clamor dwindles in a tense silence with a raise of her hand. “And we’re going to take them back.”

Fugaku spins Mikoto around. “What do you mean take them back? You mean revolt? Are you thinking of leading the Uchihas to revolt against Konoha? _Into death?_ ” Though his voice is low and his face is turned from the crowd, he might as well be shouting with all the sensory chakra enhancement the crowd are doing.

“Then what? Are we going to roll over and let them take Sasuke?” Mikoto gasps, gripping tightly onto his kimono. “I _won’t give up_ Sasuke.”

“I’m not telling you to. Take Wolf, take another three. Stealth in.”

 


	10. Reincarnation AU pre-anbu

**Reincarnation AU: In which Fuuko wasn't an SI-OC but an OC that was doomed to be reborn over and over again.**

* * *

 

Hatake Fuuko, by all appearances had been a normal one year old toddler, sitting on her father’s shoulders, happily chomping on a dango when the clock struck one minute past three and suddenly she remembered.

_The cold, the snow seeping into her cloak. She searched for some the energy to pull herself up, but couldn’t. The man with blue eyes waded through the heavy snow from the corner of her eyes, tugging her up onto his lap._

_“Kai! Stay with me-” he held onto her hand. His fingers fumbling as he tried to draw signs to heal her._

So cold. She was so cold. Her breath caught in her throat as the memories flooded in her now exactly two year old body, tiny hands gripping her father’s silver hair as she choked.

_“Misato, did you remember to bring in the clothes?” The purple haired man groaned as he realised it had started to pour._

“Fuuko-chan?” she heard her father call as he cradled her in his arms. He wafted off gentle waves of comforting chakra, but she was too caught up in the flood of memories.

_She was squatting on a boulder, waiting for her friend when she heard the drums beating. An invasion? She stood up, springing off the boulder and up the steep cliff where her home lay._

Remember, remember, remembered, remembered.

_She spun around, stabbing into the neck of one of her attacks, fingers forming seals to unleash a katon on the other two. She smelt the burnt flesh, the screams of her enemies following her into her dreams. It was hard to remember that killing is bad when all she did was kill._

She was Kaizachi, Misato, Reika, Masami, Goichi, Akihito, and now she was Fuuko. Then with the flood of garbled memories of things long gone, the tide suddenly stemmed and stopped. She blinked, taking in the white washed ceiling above her. Hadn’t she originally been in the marketplace with her father and brother? Must have scared her family half to death. Wouldn't the first time that had happened. Hadn't there been the one in the middle of a banquet? Fuuko found her memory as unreliable as it always had been. The older memories had a tendency of fading out into a stain that irritated her but couldn't remove.

There was a weight on her side that smelt like her brother. So it seemed this body had better senses. The little body murmured inaudibly when she shifted and she caught the first sight of her elder brother since the flood of her past memories. Silvery white hair that had a life of its own, at least she wasn’t born into an Uchiha family this time. Her sharingan always felt like a convenient excuse for everything she was good at. She didn’t like being judged by her bloodline limits or her family name, especially when she had succeeded on her own.

She pulled her small hands above her face, opening and closing them. Chubby fingers with neatly trimmed nails, skin pale and still blemish free. Her body is too small to be right. Her mind felt weary trying to fit itself into the too-small body or was it her soul?

_So, I died again. You would think after so many deaths, I’d become adept at not dying. I did really like being Kaizachi._

She rubbed her face and tried to shake herself out of the sudden melancholy; she was really starting to hate hitting two. Eyes tracing the cracks on the plaster on the ceiling, Fuuko took slow deep breaths to center herself. The feeling of her life leaving her was something she could never get to used to. Dying and getting reborn over and over again until she stopped counting.

_How many times has this happened anyway?_

It’s not like it mattered. The newly reborn woman had gone in and out of families far too many times to feel attached to them anyway. A snort of derision broke her out of her spiraling thoughts and her brother popped his face into her vision. “Fuu-chan! You’re awake!” He jumped off the bed, calling for their dad who had popped his face from behind the door almost immediately.

“Fuu? Are you okay? You suddenly went unresponsive and I had to bring you to Tsunade-nee chan to check on you.” He hovered his hands over her hesitantly as though trying to make a difficult decision.

Her father this life seemed nicer, warmer too, even if he was absent for large portions. She was used to absent parents or so her memory added almost helpfully.  Though try as she did, Fuuko couldn’t remember any memories of her mother from this life. Her one year old self had spent it toddling after her nii-san, copying the footsteps and actions of the ever-revolving array of adults in her new life. She wondered if she had been a shinobi like her current father and had died in a fight.

The Tsunade-nee chan in question came up just behind him and sat on the spot where her brother had recently vacated. “I’m just going to check on your vitals, okay?” Tsunade raised a green glowing hand and placed it on her chest. “Looks like everything is alright. A yin chakra imbalance caused her catatonic state.”

The blond medic eyed her father. “You might want to start her on some simple chakra control exercises but meanwhile, until she learns to balance it out, you can help her by giving some yang chakra. I can tell the Hokage to keep you out of long missions, if you like.”

Her father heaved a large sigh of relief, scratching the back of his neck sheepish. “That’d be great, Tsunade-san.”

“I thought I was going by Tsunade-nee chan now, Sakumo,” she grinned wryly.

“Tsunade- _nee chan_ then,” Sakumo chuckled. Her new father ruffled Fuuko’s hair then walked Tsunade out, their voices dropping in pitch as they moved further from the room.

Her brother clambered back onto the bed, hands folding the blanket back around her. Leaning in, he whispered in a conspiring tone, “don't worry. I saved some dango for you.”

“Is that even allowed?”

“Kakashi-” she heard their father call for her elder brother and he slipped off the bed, feet barely making a sound on the hardwood floor. Then she was alone again.

\----

Fuuko woke an hour before the sun could hit the horizon as she had done for her last few lives, molding her chakra as she lay in bed, hearing the sounds about the house. The bamboo trees rustling in the breeze, the smell of the last few camellias mixed with the promise of rain. Her brother shifted in the next room, his footsteps squeaking across the floor followed by the sounds of the drawer.

Now that she had a day to adjust to her chakra and her new body, Fuuko could sense her father slipping into her room. His chakra tasted strong and powerful like an oncoming storm. She probably wasn’t too far from it. Her elder brother tasted like lightning, albeit a baby one, but still lightning.

“Fuu~ It’s time to wake up,” he shook her. She yawned, stretching lazily.

“We’re joining your nii-san for morning exercises,” he pulled her up and helped her dressed, not that she needed it, but she was _still_ a child after all. There wasn’t any point in trying to ‘grow up’ when all it meant was more work and responsibilities for her.

Kakashi was already through his morning stretches when she got there. Her new father patiently ran her through what would be her new morning routine. Fuuko was somewhat surprised at him. The lack of discomfort to her rather adult actions and words was strange, like he had expected it.

Tou-chan ruffled Kakashi’s hair. “Do you recall how to find your chakra?”

Kakashi shoved his hand away grumpily. “Of course.”

“Do you want to show your imouto?”

Kakashi pouted but obliged.

 


	11. Fumiko and Katashi AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think I'd ever talk about Katashi (Kakashi's counterpart in Fumiko's universe) in BBHF. Mostly because who is what in Fumiko's universe isn't important and what happens/happened there isn't important either anymore. But I thought it was interesting to delve into her universe for awhile. So here we are with this. 
> 
> Featuring:  
> Genma as Alan  
> Itachi as Isachi  
> Kakashi as Katashi

**Fumiko and Katashi: In which Katashi finds Fumiko's body**

* * *

 

Katashi Harada hated how his parents treated his sister. Fumiko was a victim of her circumstances. In an ironic sense, she had been born with a failing body, a body fated to give out on her. His parents had given up on her after her sixth hospitalization and how parents could do such a thing to their own child, Katashi will never be able to tell. He couldn’t fault Jacob, Katashi supposed. When Jacob married their mum, he hadn’t expected the daughter to nearly put them in debt from the sheer amount of medical fees. His mother had been weak, she lacked the fire that aunt Noujou had. 

Katashi had returned home from college for summer only to find out that they had all but abandoned his younger sister to her fate. Jacob rented a tiny apartment and left her there. His mother bowed to her husband’s will, not bothering to check if Fumiko was still alive, if she was eating. They only cared enough that she was still going to school.

In anger and frustration, he had taken Fumiko from there and rented an apartment near his college, living with her, supporting her. His father would be turning in his grave if he found out what his mother had done.

Even more than a decade later, Katashi made a point to drop by every other week. Yes, his sister was now able to support herself. Still, he worried.

His partner had dropped him off at his sister’s apartment block, leaning out with a grin, “you know, if it wasn’t cause you dropped by your sister’s place every other week, I’d have never guessed Katashi Harada was such a  _ mother-hen.  _ No one on the force believes me!” 

Katashi scoffed, “fuck you Alan.”

“I have bets riding on this! Come on!” Alan held up a camera, the grin stretching from ear to ear. “Pretty please, just a picture?”

“Only if you give me half of your winnings.” 

“What! Ten percent!”

“Forty.”

“Twenty!”

“Forty.”

“Thirty!”

“Forty.” 

Alan heaved a sigh and ran a hand through his dark brown hair. “Fine. Fine!” 

“Happy doing business with you.” 

Alan slung an arm around his shoulders. “God, you chinese are such bargainers!”

“Japanese actually,” Katashi quipped back as they entered the building.

“Whatever.”

“Ahhh! Katashi!” The manager waved him over, handing him a stack of envelopes which Katashi tucked into the bag. “Your sister hasn’t been out lately. Do remind her to pick up her letters next time.”

His sister not leaving the apartment? That was troubling. Katashi could feel a sense of weight on his shoulders as he got out of the elevator, walking down the hallways. 

“Fumiko?” He called out as he shut the door behind him. There was a stillness in the apartment and a thick cloying stench that Katashi knew all too well.  _ Please not her _ , he begged. His feet made its way to where the smell was the strongest. His hand shook as he opened the bathroom door. 

She laid there in a bathtub of blood, her skin pale and blue and Katashi sank to knees knowing he was far too late. 

_ Why? _

“Katashi?” Alan gripped his shoulder, hauling him up. “Come on buddy.”

He could hear Alan reporting in to the station, he could see the squad troop into the apartment.

“Katashi?”

He looked up to the speaker. Isachi was pushing a mug of tea to him. “Isachi?”

“It’s not your fault,” Isachi said. “It was never your fault.”

“Then why does it feel like it is? If I had came by earlier, if I had said something-” Katashi could feel the steady drip of hot liquid down his face. Why did she leave him behind?

“It’s because we’re older brothers.”

And for one inexplicable moment, Katashi understood. 

“Wherever Fumiko is now, she’s in a better place now,” Isachi paused, his black eyes drifting out, to the window. “A place where she’s not hindered by her body or illness. Where she’s happy.”

Katashi sobbed, scrubbing his face fiercely. “I hope so.”

 


	12. Danzo vs Fuuko AU

**In which Danzo wins, Fuuko submits and she kills the Uchihas and Kakashi**

* * *

 

She stares at the silhouette at the end of the room, feeling the multiple chakra presences at her back. Fuuko had guessed that things would have led to this.

“Danzo.”

“Hatake Fuuko.” His steps, echoed by the rapping of his cane, are meant to be intimidating, but she isn’t scared.

Beneath the surface of her mask, the thin ripple of apathetic rises to the surface, enveloping her. Here, she isn’t Hatake Fuuko or the lightning blade of Konoha. She is Wolf.

She flashes forward, her kodachi unsheathing in a movement too fast. A white blur in the shadows of the Root hallway. Danzo’s cane blocks and breaks under the weight of her chakra infused blade.  

“Are you going to kill me?” he brazenly asks despite the cold metal biting into the side of neck. His eye is calculative with an unveiled smugness. “You’ll never get your precious Uchiha back if you kill me.”

“I don’t need you to find him.”

Danzo tuts. “I never said about finding. I don’t doubt a Hatake’s tracking abilities. But we wouldn’t want the precious Uchiha’s spare to die, now would we?”

“What would Hokage-sama say if he knew?”

His lips stretches across his cold, scaly skin. “Are you planning to tell him that you killed all those loyal konoha shinobi too?”

“Under the light of your betrayal, I’m sure I would be pardoned. Regardless, I care not for my own self.”

“Yes, just the little Uchiha, but if you kill me, that would be you killing Sasuke-chan too.” He unwinds the bandage around his wrist to show a seal. Fuuko knows enough of Fuuinjutsu to know that it’s a blood-linked explosive seal.

“No...”

“So you see.” Danzo places his hands on his cane. A smirk, coy and triumphant tugs his face. He has won and he knows it. “You can’t kill me and you can’t get him.”

Any leverage she has on him is gone. She is going to die and she can’t even save Sasuke. Her hand drops to her side, her kodachi only held loosely between her limp grip.

“There, there. See I don’t like to waste good things.”

 

-/-/-/-

White.

Warm.

Where is she?

She puts a hand out and realises she can’t move. Why can’t she move? Why can’t she anything but white? She screams, or tries to scream but she can’t. _Please, please, please._ The words in her mind fades and her thoughts fade with a warm pulse shooting through her.

Sleepy.

She tries to hold onto her thoughts, hold on to staying awake. She tries so very hard. Still sleep wins and she drifts off.

She wakes again. How much time has passed since she fell asleep? There’s no sense of time, there’s no discomfort either. Just a feeling of safety and security surrounding her. Her fist can uncurl now, it’s not much but it _is_ something.

Who is she?

The question lingers in her mind and fades.

How had she come of here?

These questions aren’t important, are they? She’s safe now. She doesn’t need to think. She don’t need to ask herself hard questions anymore. They are of no…

...Of no consequence… She is safe if she just let’s go.

If she let’s go...

Her eyes fly open, her mind still slowing rebooting as she stares at the ceiling. Where is she? She turns, trying but failing to sit up, her body unconsciously reaching down to mold chakra that isn’t present. Slate grey bricks line the way and chakra reinforced metal bars divide her from the masked guards.

What was that? Who is she? She pushes to spinning thoughts away, dragging words to the tip of her tongue.

“I am Fuuko. I am Hatake Fuuko.” Is she? She stares at her hands, tracing each scar out with her fingertip, remembering each scar she got. How long had she been asleep? She opens her mouth, trying to find words to the feeling whelming up inside her. A shadow falls over her and startles her. “C-chicken?”

Chicken stares at her for several moments. His gloved hands coming up to remove his mask. A breach of protocol, the thought flits through her mind as he does so. His dark purple eyebrows knit a tight knot between his grey eyes. She knows this man, yet for reasons that she’s unsure of, she can’t put a finger on it.

If she’s Hatake Fuuko then who’s the other her?

“Hatake?” his tenor voice pitched lowly. Even though it’s against protocol, the other guard can’t seem to help but glance at her as well.

“Su… ba… ru?” she strings the likely sounds together. It sounds right.

“Yes. Subaru, the one with a twin brother.” The man tilts his head to Crane. “I think we might need Fuu here.”

“Shall I request for Yamanaka-sama? He had asked to call for him if they needed one.”

She watches him stand, slipping his mask back on. “Probably a good idea. She’s completely out of it.”

_(Trust. Trust me.)_

It was white. White when she died. There was nothing but white. Was she dying or was she returning? Nothing made sense, not even the scars on her hands.

_(Sleep.)_

The voice seemingly rubbed circles on her chest and her eyes droops; heavier and heavier until she could no longer see Subaru.

-/-/-/-

Her body lifts and slashes her kodachi over and over again and no matter how much she screams for it to stop, she can’t.

-/-/-/-

“You have to sleep,” Genma says. Fuuko doesn’t lift her eyes from Shisui’s sleeping form, watching his chest rise and fall. It was a close call. Was this what happened in the anime? Shisui died in the forest from poisoning? It was Itachi, right? Itachi found him and he gave Itachi his other eye.

Shisui still lost his eye. She had pursued Danzo in hopes of getting it back and she failed. Had it not been for Susumu, she might have died. Oh god Susumu, Kakashi. How will she ever make up to them. Susumu died for her. She’s never lost a ninken before. Is this how the Inuzukas feel when they lose their life-long partner?

Why is she so weak? Why isn’t she capable of protecting her precious people? What is the point of knowing what is going to happen if she _can’t protect_ them?

“Fuuko…” Genma helps her out of the chair and guides her to the next room. “Raido and Sayami will guard him while you’re sleeping, okay?”

He helps her into the bed, removing her shoes and tucking the blanket in.

Why isn’t she stronger?

“Enough of that,” Genma scolds her and sinks into the seat beside her bed. “You are not weak.”

But she is.

“You are not.”

Has she been speaking out loud instead?

Genma puts a hand on her forehead. “Yes you have and you’re not weak. Man, I don’t know how you do half the things you do. Remember the time I got poisoned and you carried me back to Konoha in two day with excessive use of your Denko Sekka? I don’t any other ninja who could have compressed a week’s trip into two days.”

“I killed Kakashi.”

-/-/-/-

Fuuko wakes up to spinning red eyes. She knows the question Shisui has yet to ask, it’s the same question that everyone has asked her.

“I didn’t do it-” Fuuko clutches her head. “I didn’t do it because I wanted to!”

The searing heat of the seal on her tongue comes to life and she is forced to stop short. There are no words she can tell Itachi or Shisui that would convey the truth.

“I did it because I had to!” she roars and slams her hand angrily onto the wooden table, hard enough for it to crack.

“Why? Why did you have to kill my cousins? Why did you have to kill my father?”

“I had to because-” The seal locks her tongue again and Fuuko gives a cry of frustration. “I’m sorry, I had- had to keep S-”

She’s tired. The words she wants to come out can’t and she knows it looks bad in every angle. The betrayed look Itachi and Shisui gives her is enough. Fuuko made a promise, she kept it. Took the seal in exchange for Sasuke’s, her freedom for Sasuke.

“Just leave me alone already! You hate me anyway,.”

“Fuuko-” Shisui starts and places a hand on her shoulder.

“Leave!” Fuuko shrugs the hand off and turns away, cupping her face between hands, then she cries to herself as she hears their footsteps leave the room.

She kept it. Kept her promise. Even if they don’t understand, she followed it through. “I kept my promise, I didn’t do anything wrong. I’m sorry-”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This whole chunk is actually one of the plots that I had planned for BBHF. Where Kakashi's death was planned along with all the Uchihas, except Shisui, Itachi and Sasuke, dying. Of course, once I realised that Kakashi had to die for the plot to work, I kinda backpedalled really fast. Mostly because BBHF IS is about Kakashi and Fuuko's relationship. 
> 
> You will notice that some of the conversations look familiar. This is because this is from the depository... well, I don't trash works. I try to reuse parts that I like into new scenes. 
> 
> P.S: Personally, I'm not sure if Fuuko will ever end up with Shisui. I've gotten quite a few comments on Shiko(would this be a ship name?) ship and while I've no actual plans to make them end up together, considering how some of the writing just writes by itself, they might end up together in the end. Buttt I'm presuming that's gonna be a slow burn. Like a super slow burn. But ehhh, we'll see how that goes. 
> 
> P.P.S: I'm still working on BBHF chp 17, it's not coming along very well. *sob*


	13. BBHF AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the original BBHF 1st chp. But it was discarded in favour for a less traditional SI-OC beginning. I didn't really want to write the whole childhood just to get to the good parts, but BBHF then later turned out differently. I don't think Fuuko in the main fic would be considered too much as a reincarnated SI-OC anymore. I'm not sure if anyone prefers this traditional route or the one that BBHF turned out.
> 
> Anyway, I found this in my google drive and there are more, so you might see me posting some.

**Bones beneath her feet: Original Chapter 1**

* * *

 

Her father was putting her into bed, lying across her cot, arm bracing his head up as he told her the story of great-grandfather Kanachimara who carried his father and sister out from the burning fields. The moon was a coil of burning silver, hovering low in the dark sky and she could smell the scent of the approaching rain. Those were her first conscious memories.

She was Hatake Fuuko, daughter of Hatake Sakumo and younger sister of Hatake Kakashi and it was those memories that shook her to her very core.

Her father laid a heavy hand on her head, brushing her unruly hair. “It’s okay Fuuko-chan, Papa will be back before you know it. Then I can tell you what happened after Kanachimara met Senju Hashirama. Just two weeks, Fuuko-chan.”

 _It’s not you going away that scares me,_ she wanted to scream. It seemed strange to her that she hadn’t realised it until now that the world she lived in had been but a fiction in a distant past memory. Or had _it_ been a dream?

She curled her hand around her father’s wrist, taking comfort in his solid presence. Her memories of before now were hazy; a tangled mess of thread knotted tightly together.

“Just two weeks.” He kissed her forehead and tucked the blankets around her. Ruffling nii-san’s hair, he closed the door behind him, leaving the both of them in the ensuing darkness.

Nii-san, _Kakashi,_ was watching her from the bed across the room. “It’s okay,” he whispered and stretched out to hold her hand. “tou-chan is strong. He’s the White Fang of Konoha.”

Was she thirty years old or was she actually four? She couldn’t tell. But the boy, that was not more than a year older than her, was comforting her and all it did was make her want to laugh hysterically.

He raised his hand out to the ceiling in the darkness as though reaching out to something, his hand fisting. “One day I’ll be strong like tou-chan, then imouto-chan will never need to worry.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works.” She smiled weakly at him before pulling the covers over her head.

“Then I’ll be stronger than otou-chan,” she heard him say. Her jaw trembled from the weight of the words she wanted to say. If the memories of before now were true, then she had died only to be reborn into this world; the world where peace was a mockery and the hopes and dreams of their children living their lives out was a big sham. Perhaps this was her penitence and retribution.

\W/ \W/ \W/

Kakashi noticed his sister being quieter than usual since tou-chan left, she would follow their daily activities listlessly, not really putting her usual effort into the training that Noujou-oba ran them through and when she barely touched her meals, watching Noujou-oba fret over her made him worry even more. He wasn’t much of a talker and neither was imouto but he was hard-pressed to recall if she even spoke in the entire day.

When Kouuki-kun came by to drag them to the playground, Kakashi went along willingly without his usual fussing. The kids only seemed to increase her sullen mood then Kouuki-kun brought a short kid to introduce.

“Kakashi-chan, Fuuko-chan, this is Dai-san’s son, the one that is in Sakumo-ojisan’s team-”

“I AM MAITO GAI!” The bowl-cut haired boy interrupted, his voice a dozen decibels over what was considered loud.

“Maito… Gai?” Fuuko asked. The two Hatakes whirled their heads in surprise at her words. Not only had she spoken the first time in two days, there was a small smile on her face. Kakashi took a second look at this _Gai_ and wondered how this plain looking kid had put a smile on his sister’s face when even he failed to. ‘ _Was loudness a factor?’_ He wondered, baffled.

“This Kakashi-chan and-”

“IT IS A PLEASURE TO MEET YOU!”

Kakashi was two steps around from throttling the boy when his sister -the bloody traitor- took Gai’s hand to the swings and told him to push her. Kakashi was torn between pushing Gai away so that he could push his own imouto on the swings and thanking the boy for making her smile.

Gai beamed brightly and started chattering away loudly, still several decibels above what Kakashi would consider acceptable. Then he _pushed_ his four year old sister high enough for her to _fly_ out of the swing.

Scratch that, he was _never_ going to like Gai.

Kouuki caught her easily. He stalked over to Gai, shoving him angrily. “You could have hurt her!” He never doubted his chuunin cousin’s abilities but who pushes a kid on the swing that hard? “What if-” He froze at the sound of laughing, the sound of his sister _laughing._  

“That was fun!” She squirmed in Kouuki’s arms until he placed her back on the ground and ran towards Gai. “Again!”

Maybe she was crazy.

\W/ \W/ \W/

Fuuko eventually got used to the idea of living in Narutoverse, she had to. Clearly she wasn’t going anywhere and in spite of the looming fate of being turned into another child soldier typical of this universe, she found herself enjoying living for the first time in a very long time. Along with the over-protective nii-san that hovered excessively whenever Gai turned up at the playgrounds, Fuuko _had_ an extended family. One that she had grown to love and depend on.

The manga had shown him largely being alone by himself which she had supposed made him socially awkward. Now she knew that it wasn’t true. The Hatakes were warm, awkward but warm. Her original family had been cold and distant, she hadn’t gotten along with them at all. She remembered the silent dinners and the passive aggressive attitudes of her _then_ parents. Noujou-oba was warm and friendly just like her son, Kouuki-kun. They remembered Nii-san’s and her favourites, they cooked whenever whoever was not around, and she probably ate more eggplant miso here, Kakashi’s favourite apparently, than she ever ate in her entire _other_ life.

Her days were routined, morning exercises followed by breakfast, then sparring and academic lessons. Kouuki-kun’s lessons were far more fun than Noujou-oba’s. Unlike Noujou-oba who had focused on her dodging skills, Kouuki had emphasized the need to learn to fall. As strange it sounded, the most important thing was learning _how_ to fall without injuring herself. He would spend hours simply throwing her in different positions and it was from those lessons that Fuuko learnt to imbue and augment her limbs with chakra.

Her father, Sakumo, was a hazy figure even in her earlier memories. Now that she lived and ate with them, it suddenly made sense why canon Kakashi had been so desperate to make him see him.

Then all that changed on an autumn’s night when a hawk flew into the kitchen where Nii-san, tou-chan and her were having dinner. Sakumo paled at the colour coded scroll tied to its leg.

“Tou-chan?” Kakashi flickered his gaze from the hawk and back to their father.

If she was right, the black tipped scroll was likely to be a death notice. Having been around with the three active shinobis, she had seen all types of coloured scroll and not one single black tipped scroll. Was it Kouuki-kun?

She slid off her seat, reaching for her father’s pants. “Tou-chan?”

Sakumo rubbed his face tiredly and she could see his jaw trembling as he spoke. “Hatake Noujou laid her life down for the village yesterday.”

\W/ \W/ \W/

The funeral was cold and miserable just like any funeral that she could vaguely recall. It wasn’t raining but the sun had been shrouded by a thick cloud. Noujou-oba wasn’t the only one to be added to the memorial. Of her squad of six, only two made it back.

She gripped tightly onto Kakashi’s hand as Sakumo chipped Noujou-oba’s name onto the dark obsidian stone. Noujou-oba who brought her to the onsen, who helped her wash her hair, who made her her favourite simmered mackerel, who was stronger than Sakumo when they sparred occasionally. Noujou-oba with her silver hair and soft dark grey eyes would never be coming back again.

She ignored the warm tears that streamed down both Kakashi’s and her face. So this is why Sakumo had been all alone in the last few months of his life. How long would it be from now before she was going to lose Kouuki-kun too? During the war?

Fuuko wasn’t an oblivious child to not realise that a war was starting to brew, the beginnings of the Third Shinobi War, she wasn’t even a child but a thirty year old trapped in a four year old body.

\W/ \W/ \W/

Kouuki-kun threw himself into their training with the compulsory downtime that he and father was given. He had showed her the beginning stance of the famous Hatake kenjutsu and the way to hold and stand with the boken. Fuuko might have snickered in the beginning on Kouuki forcing her to simply stand there with the boken, but after two hours of simply _standing_ there, she had come to realise that the stance used a lot more muscles that she had expected.

When Kouuki finally began to show her actual moves, she found that she had a natural gift for kenjutsu like Kouuki did. She took to Kenjutsu like a duck to the water, devouring his knowledge faster than even Kakashi did.

Kouuki ruffled Kakashi’s hair with a sad smile. “It’s okay. Sakumo-ojisan did say you were far better at ninjutsu. You’ll two be the unbeatable siblings.”

It was later that night when Fuuko asked Sakumo why Kouuki looked so sad that she found out that Kouuki had a older brother, Hatake Ushikachi. Her father sat Kakashi and her on his lap and took the photo album out. There was a lady with dark blonde hair holding her as a baby with Kakashi riding Sakumo’s shoulder.

“Is that-” She traced the lady’s face with her finger. There was resemblance of her in Kakashi, her hooded eyes right down to the nose.

“Yes, that’s your okaasan,” he replied softly.

Fuuko could not help but wonder how long ago it had been since she passed but she did not press. Loss of someone that was loved dearly would always hurt no matter how long time passed. She laid her small hand over his calloused hand. “It’s okay, tou-chan. You still have us.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Interestingly, I strongly believe in reincarnation and also the possibilities in SI-OCs. My first conscious memories were quite like Fuuko's in this chp. Throughout my life, up to when I was about eighteen, I had strange memories of places and people that I wasn't sure came from where. It was very fragmented and strange.


End file.
